Aloftsoar
by twentyfourth and vine
Summary: There is no reason - no reason whatsoever that someone as famous as Edward Cullen would reply to a message someone sent him through social media. So why is he replying to me?
1. Chapter 1

_This is pure fluff with silly words. It's short and complete, I promise._

ALOFTSOAR

- 1 -

He sings.

I don't remember who rec'd him or which thread I followed to first hear his voice - aching, exhilarating, sublime, surelymine.

Youtube showed me his face and the feeling of justmine arrived.

Google told me his birthdate and background. Facebook said he was on the move, on tour, though he wasn't yet near my state - the state I was in - and was unlikely to ever be. Twitter said he'd be my friend. Onlymine? No doubt he accepted everyone.

I sent him a message.

_Your voice is sandpaper rasp honeyglide cloudstorm_

And unexpectedly, received a response.

- Hello, thank you.

_Your lyrics are joyfierce tigertears hungry milksoft_

And another.

- Who are you?

_Your melodies are caravaggio aloftsoar meadow and swirl _

- I appreciate your startling and lovely words.

_Your rhythms are raindrop armadas gypsywild crash _

He asked again - who are you?

_I'm not really anyone_

- Oh, I think you're someone. Tell me where you are.

_I'm right here_

- Not forthcoming with the name and whereabouts - you're going to make me work for information, aren't you? Okay. Describe the sky outside your window. Blue and brash or silver and kind?

I'm stunned that he's asking. I couldn't have known he'd say something so pretty. Or of course I could. After all, his songpoems ignited me and seared me and threw me to the floor.

_Deep, clear, temperate_

- Come on now, that's barely a hint. Give me color.

_The day is gone to lilac_

- Well then. It's evening for both of us. My day is starting, now that I've slept through the sunlight. Have you too?

_No. I would, but for the scarlet it casts on my eyelids and the loss of income_

- Where are you, Lilac Sky? You may be near me. Who are you?

Someone who can't believe you're communicating with them.

_Someone who is affected by the notes you put in the air. They have made a difference to my life. I'm sorry for taking up your time, but I wanted to thank you for them. And thank you for replying to me. I wish you well_

- HEY! You're not signing off, are you? I have to go to work - will you be around later? Can we talk some more?

And so later...

A skype ID flashed to my private messages. Then again. Then again. He was persistent.

Could I? Would I? No reason not to, really.

_Hello_ I said, actually said with my voice, though I'd disabled the camera.

- I can't see you!

_The camera on my laptop is broken_

- Can you get it fixed?

I could see him. Skin and pulse and real, near and warm, spilt-tea whiskey. Intoxicating burn - he was so beautiful, even looking this tired.

_I'm not sure. You sang tonight? You call it work?_

- Yeah, I played a show. I don't really call it work, though at the same time it is. I don't tend to talk to fans, you know. I mean I'll thank them for coming to along to watch me perform and I'll sign cd's for them. I've never skyped one before. Who are you?

_Just - a listener. A recent listener. I don't own any of your recordings_

- God, that's a relief. Sorry if it sounds weird, but knowing someone doesn't have any of my music makes me more inclined to want to speak to them. Will you tell me anything about yourself?

_I have toes. I blink. I'm right-handed_

He sighed. I hadn't told him anything.

_I'm a girl_

- Well yes. With a name?

Edward Cullen - THE Edward Cullen, was asking for my name. Surreal. My skype ID is nonsense letters, like a captcha, so there were no clues. I had to think for a while. Am I churlish? Am I paranoid? A little of each though not much of both.

_Bella_

- OK. Bella. I'm Edward. Nice to meet you! Here's the thing. I'm in a hotel room on my own, exhausted and crashing. It's like this most of the time on tour. To be blunt I don't cope very well, so I'm going to ring down for alcohol and I'm going to drink until I fall asleep. I hate touring, it's lonely and disorientating and I suffer from insomnia. I'm not fit for company or conversation, much as I'd like to be, but I'm glad I got to catch up with you anyway. Can we speak tomorrow, in the daytime when I'm a bit more together?

This couldn't be happening, and unfortunately couldn't happen.

_I can't skype when I'm at work_

- Online chat then, as in typing? Facebook? I don't do my own page, my manager does it, but I know the password. Tomorrow, Bella.

_Yes, tomorrow_


	2. Chapter 2

_Thank you for the lovely response!_

ALOFTSOAR

- 2 -

At eleven, tomorrow being today, he was in the little box to the bottom right.

- Hello! Breakfast. My daily reward for getting up. You know those miniature pancakes? I am eating five hundred of them. Maybe six hundred. I like mornings and eating. Well, late mornings. Are you there?

_Only just. I'm due in a meeting. In a minute_

- Okay, you're busy. What do you do, anyway? Can we talk afterwards? Say in an hour?

_I work in an office. I'm not sure how long I'll be_

- Two hours then

Meetings had been known to go for longer than that.

_Meetings have been known to go for longer than that_

- Ah. Right. How about I just try later and if you're there you're there?

_Yes_

- Till then, then.

But I was kept so pointlessly occupied that I couldn't go back onto Facebook until evening. Edward had said hello twice and signed off, unanswered. He didn't get in touch the next day or the next, not that I was waiting. Or expecting. As the tour schedule confirmed, he was busy too. Very busy, wending his way about the land. Referring again to our chat exchange I wondered if maybe he'd inferred that I didn't want him to contact me. Then I thought I was ingenuous. Him, alone, every night? With the gifts of Orpheus and Endymion combined, an allure there's no inoculation against - why would he be alone _any_ night? Answer - he wouldn't, even if against all odds he'd been by himself yesterday. He wasn't chasing me because he had alternatives.

Sadsweet gifts recipients with its own unique hurt. Lilting melancholy can be a quiet celebration, a misty sure knowledge of emotions singing lovely like blades. The dead don't know this, or if they do they haven't come back to say so. I was wounded over an ephemeron, even if something that hasn't begun can't end. It's self-indulgent to mourn in such circumstances, so Belladrama, build this brief episode up until it's an entire chapter in your enthralling autobiography. Then you can grieve like a trooper. A non-event makes for a shortish chapter, though, depending on the level of self-pity.

For observance of my loss I wore black - widow's threads - my nevermarriage over, my neverhusband plummeted off highcliff and scattered to widesea, my never-ring neverworn.

But the telegraph poles and the warehouse walls began to dress in new colors, posters everywhere announcing his imminence. Edward Cullen was due in my town.

My fingers hovered over the keyboard at work and at home - perhaps I could just write a tiny message? It didn't matter if there was no response. I wouldn'tmind. Wouldn'tcare.

_Are you woken from your winedreams to eat? _

- Sirens, thunderclaps, ovations! You're there!

Well.

_As are you_

- Where have you been? I've been waiting for more words from you. I hope you haven't used them up. That was a very long meeting.

_I was asked to take the minutes but I recorded them. I still have a cache of words_

- I hope you were given nice sandwiches. Is your laptop repaired now?

_My laptop?_

- The camera.

_Not yet_

There was nothing wrong with the camera, other than its honesty. I fiddled with the settings, checked them. Yes, holding. With him so glorious, me so not, my dishonesty felt justified.

I was aware of my absurd folly in thinking his opinion of me couldn't be negatively influenced by my appearance if he was in ignorance of it. What exactly would happen to me and him in my deluded fantasy? We would meet one day when he was conveniently blindfolded? Or at midnight during a power failure? Or be always unencountered, I a disembodied online presence whose correspondence he cherished.

I could try not taking myself so seriously. I could try netting a moon, one of many I've seen on watery surfaces, to find out if it will thrive in a bucket while I feed it clouds and sunsets.

_Do you think the moon would like to live closer to us? Maybe in an ink pond?_ _We could try our best to make her happy out of her element_

- Bella, you say the most unexpected things. I'd like to see you - you know, talk face to face, so to speak. Get someone to sort out that camera. But hey, in other news, I'm going to work at nine. Can I skype you before then?

If you do you still won't find my camera operational. Why am I this reluctant about revealing myself? It's possible to find appeal in the everyday, allure in the quotidian, loveliness in both the usual and unusual, but I know it's not common to think this way. Conventional beauty is so highly valued it's currency. Certainly the ordinary holdall of skin containing me with its infrastructure of bones and cords and meat is reliably functional, for which I'm thankful. I know prepossessing girls who get unwell. I'm never unwell. No absenteeism imposed by illness - nor colds nor fevers, nor even that most mysterious and feminine of ailments, period pain. My good health is everpresent, though sometimes I consider I'd trade a day off sick per month to have been awarded finer features at the great swap meet of inheritance.

_I'll be out_

He sent an unsmiley face.

- Where are you going? Anywhere exciting?

_The yoghurt aisle_

- Probiotic? For your rich inner life?

_You're funny_

- Now you're getting to know me. I'm finishing late-ish, but I could buzz you then. I'll be in my post-show condition. I may be wildly communicative - sometimes that happens. Or just wild. Very occasionally I go out, but if you're waiting for me I won't. Will you be around?

_Yes. Watching the moon_

- I'll watch with you

_Good luck tonight_

- You too.


	3. Chapter 3

_Thank you to the kind reviewers_

ALOFTSOAR

- 3 -

Midnight chimed before Edward did but he followed it in.

- Bella! You're _there_! This is a welcome surprise. And pleasant.

_No _you're_ there, I'm here_

He tilted his head, regarding the screen speculatively, a smile playing peekaboo between his lips before jumping all the way out.

- I thought I was the funny one. Are you funny, too? Oh Lord, the Edward and Bella Comedy Hour. Good evening everyone, thanks for tuning in.

_A laugh a minute assured - more if you get the jokes_

- That's gotta be worth the price of admission.

_We're admitting nothing but our genies_

- Wow. Did you just horribly misquote Oscar Wilde?

_I prefer the term 'paraphrase'_

- So wrong it's terrifying. Genies? You're good.

Despite the humor I could see he was in his mood - the winter of his discontent. He pestered his hair, nibbled a thumbnail, frowned, rubbed the back of his neck, sighed.

- I'm wired. Do you mind if I move around?

Then he was disappearing and reappearing on the screen, irregularly in sight and gone. Not really doing anything - he picked up a book and put it down. Dug his hands into his pockets, pulled them out. Tugged on his earlobe, pursed his lips, thinking vacantly. Yanked his t-shirt over his head and unzipped his jeans, then froze, eyes wide, staring straight at me.

- Oh, _shit,_ sorry!

Turned away, refastened his jeans, wriggled back into the t-shirt, mortified.

- What a colossal dumbass! I really, really didn't mean to do that. You think I'm appalling.

He wasn't appalling, though the sight of him damaged my heart. I felt the wrench as my ventricles parted, unlikely to meet again. I heard the crack, too - cannonfire loud. I was surprised he didn't.

_Did you hear that?_

- What? he resumed his pacing. Distracted.

- Oh, look Bella, I'm useless, I'm sorry. My head's not right. I'm always kind of jumpy, but especially after being on stage. It drives everyone crazy. It wasn't a good idea for me to speak to you, I just wanted to. I think I need to go down to the hotel pool and do laps. Can we adjourn?

_You're a swimmer? _

I saw those shoulders. The arms. Smooth, toned, strong. Solid without bulk. The long tapered torso. Just partially, a little, I died.

- Yeah. Three or four times a week. At school I was a runner - as in athletics, not absconding. It isn't advisable lately though, with being in different cities nearly every day. I'd be liable to take too many wrong turns. My manager would need to maintain full-time surveillance - maybe a private satellite to keep track of me. But yeah, activity's the best way to deal when I need to wind down. I used to smoke weed, but I've given up - it made me listless. From one extreme to the other.

_You said you drink_

- Now and again.

He snorted, shaking his head, sitting on the edge of the bed.

- Not as often as I run or swim. After drinking I feel like shit and then I remember why it's a bad idea.

Almost as if he could see me, he was gazing into the screen.

- Weird. I get on a plane or I'm in a tourbus and I fall asleep and when I wake I'm somewhere I wasn't before. I'm always seeing different views through generic hotel chain windows, then tonight I've opened my laptop and you're here. It's like I've brought you with me. I suppose that's a bizarre way of thinking about it.

_No, I know what you mean. You're sitting on my desk_

The wistful look on his face was provided courtesy of my imagination as he nodded. And nodded, jiggling his knee, shifting around, leaning back, leaning forward.

- Well, I guess the pool's waiting

_There's a lot of water to get through_

_- _The sooner I dive in, the sooner I'll reach the other side and be on my way back.

_Do you tumbleturn?_

- You know the lingo. I'm going to keep you in suspense by not telling you.

He smiled. I smiled, matching.

_Okay then_

- Okay then.

His jitters seemed to have stopped. I wondered why he hadn't gone yet.

- So. The moon, huh? It's overcast here tonight. What about where you are? Anything to see?

_Farsilver nacre mileshigh. Stippled with empty waterbowls. She lures our seas having none of her own_

- Sounds fantastic. Could you send me a picture?

_No, due to non-existent camera functionality_

- Oh. Yeah. Silly me.

From then on every day I thought I might not hear from him again but daily I did. How this improbable situation could have come about I had no idea. He told me things.

- My life is estranged from reality. I don't believe that there's a single person around me who tells the truth. I'm pandered to because people's lives depend on my ongoing success. If I sneeze, doctors burst through every door and window, and half a dozen helicopters stand by to take me to hospital. I just want to sing songs, Bella - I didn't know it would be like this.

_Are you unhappy?_

- Not really. I'd be an ungrateful prick to be unhappy with this incredible existence I'm able to lead. But I feel disconnected. The strangeness of it all gets to me. Hey, I'm not always this surly, honestly. I can be jaunty. Exuberant even. God, that's enough about me for anyone. Talk about you.

Every day I thought I might not hear from him again but daily I did. I told him things.

_I work in an agency that matches up special needs teachers with special needs kids. I love my job, mostly. Some days I find myself exuberant - probably not so much jaunty_

The day the tickets went on sale I was exuberant, jaunty and more. My feet didn't hit the ground.

But I didn't tell him that in two weeks his concert would be under my sky.


	4. Chapter 4

_The rec's are much appreciated_

ALOFTSOAR

- 4 -

Then the road was humming, the air was awake and my skin was fireworks. He was here.

I'd bought a single ticket, so as not to go with anyone else. The very back of the venue hosted me, unlit darkwrapped, tippytoed over four thousand nine hundred and ninety-nine heads. Edward's voice through the speakers was the voice I'd spoken to a couple of hours ago, though with these listeners his word choices were different. The songs were friends, until he introduced one I hadn't met.

"This is a new song, well, it's a week or so old. We've been working on it at soundchecks. I hope you like it," he said, nodding over his shoulder to the drummer who tapped sticks together one two three four.

"She speaks in pictures," Edward began, his husky heartstop tones flowing into something I couldn't process. He sang a paean to an unnamed girl who entranced with letters, whose words were an iridescent comet's tail in the air all around, falling softly.

I left more speechless than I'd arrived and sat trembling at my desk, not knowing how to begin. Wondering where he was. Drinking? Swimming? Socializing?

- Hey. Fuck, I had fun tonight! One of those rare shows when it feels so good. God - the buzz, the tingle. You know it the second you hear the first note - you know the band have got it and it's special. I'm so high, Bella. I want to dance around the sun. I want to trampoline through the stars and dive off volcanos and laugh and cry and run for miles, listening to glaciers crunch and feeling the earth turn. Fuck. Fuck - I'm so happy. This is what I live for. These occasional nights are the payoff. The band have gone out partying and I will too - I'll get wasted and stay up all night because there's no way I'm coming down for hours - but I wanted to say hello to you first. How are you, lovely girl?

He was lit like this, innershine. Hair awry, limbs gangly with an inability for stillness, eyes beaming watts and watts.

_I saw you_

In a split second he changed, bent close, close, close. Eyes narrowed, he whispered - What?

_I saw you_

Those long legs tossed him away, hands to his head, and I heard a muted groan. His back curved as he pulled his hair towards the floor. Straightened, came back, discomposed.

- I'm where you live? You were at the show? WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME?

Forgetting he saw only silence I shook my head.

- Well, come to me now. Jump in a cab. I'll pay when you get here.

_It's late_

- You're awake! I'll come to you. I don't have to starclimb and mountaindive. I'd rather meet you in person than do anything else.

_I - _

- You. Yes. Say yes.

_I can't, it's too late_

He stared and stared, my screen afire with his intensity. What was he looking at? A wallpaper? Greyblack charcoal blankness? Disconcerting - his frustration eagerness disappointment, everything vivid. He was so alive.

- Do you have a ticket for tomorrow night?

_Yes_

- At the end, don't leave. Wait for me. Promise.

_Okay_

- Okay is non-committal! Yes or no please Bella. Okay will have me prowling, sending security to check the perimeters, asking for ID, causing widespread alarm. I want a yes and not a no. But okay is not okay. _Promise._

My heart did a pirouette. Fell over messily, chambers akimbo.

_I'll be there. I'll wait. I promise._

All day I got ready. Washed my hair. Dried my hair. Styled it. Who am I kidding? Tanglemess. Skin lightpale. Eyes densewood, silly-flecked with reddish and amberish. All of me so haphazardly thrown together - a chimera. I wanted to be pretty, then berated myself for such vapidity. The venue would be full, again, of the girls that magazines were full of - shapely, lovely, perfect, in thigh-displaying dresses and vertiginous heels, with tantalizing flesh surging from their necklines. I could barely bear to be like me, though I'd never be like them. I was a wreck. I decided not to go.

But regret, Blue Rue, is a millstone. She can self-lighten for an hour or two, even days, biding time only to mass at the next quagmire you approach. Then you'll sink to the four aspects of the boggy depths. Two are flimsy: hope - too fine a strand to get much grip on, and recovery - a thin glow unworthy of the name and inadequate to set a course by. The substantial aspects are weight and sludge, accounting for both the quag and the mire.

I didn't want a necklace of Blue Rue to have me waist-deep and sinking further in a slough, so I took myself, unbedecked, and stood again further away than I wanted to be, closer than I dared.

Last night Edward was at ease, tonight his eyes darted, he fidgeted, making gestures now familiar to me, telling of agitation. The music the songs the playing the performance smooth and well-rehearsed, but lacking vitality. He swallowed often, strode, tore at his hair. The band continued stoic as he faltered over lyrics.

Halfway through a song he stopped altogether and a quiet silence arose.

"I want to try something new," he mumbled. "Solo - because the band haven't heard it yet."

Light notes rippled out from his guitar, his voice very clear.

"_I wait for the girl with Fall in her eyes_

_I want nothing more than to fall in her eyes_

_She thinks that I don't see her yet I do_

But his voice cracked, and he stopped again. "I'm sorry. There's something I have to do. Excuse me," he said, and took his cell out, absorbed, finger on the keypad. Breathbated, the audience wondered what Edward Cullen was up to.

What was Edward Cullen up to?

My phone rang.


	5. Chapter 5

ALOFTSOAR

- 5 -

I was too dumbstruck to react as the ringtone spread in the conducting air, pushing people away, encircling me in my own round space. Four thousand nine hundred and ninety nine pairs of eyes turned towards me in, thankfully, gloom. Me. Isabella Swan.

And a few more pairs, taking into account the staff and the crew and the band.

And Edward Cullen.

"YES!" he shouted joyfully into the microphone.

The concert resumed and you've never seen anyone smile as much as the scrufflovely minstrel onstage.

I ducked and weaved and found elsewhere to stand in my disbelief. He was radiant because of me?

He called his goodbyes and thank yous to an adoring crowd, waved as they waved, and said to the room, "You _promised_."

At the exits people were drifting amurmur with what was all that about? did you see whose cell it was? fuck no, it's way too dark in here. god I'm jealous. that was pretty cool.

The dimness lifted a little and bounding down the stairs beside the stage he came. Across the floor, running mewards. Far taller than I knew he'd be, long arms and dangling hands. Expressions hopeful excited and anxious.

- Bella?

I didn't understand. Shy and self-conscious and twitching with panic - I didn't understand, but I couldn't flee. I'd trip over my own lack of balance, and anyway, here he was.

- Hey. Hi. It's you. Hi.

_Um - hi. Can you see in the dark?_

- No. Not until the lights come up. Like everybody else.

_Why did you come straight to me? How did you know?_

- Well, you're the only girl standing here. And as well - I recognized you.

His face softened.

- Your camera was on, after the first time we spoke. I realized you didn't know and I picked up that you were sensitive about it. I didn't want to tell you in case you felt bad. And in case you turned it off again. Please, come sit with me? We can talk. God. Bella. Oh, shit - we've never met. I'm an idiot. I'm Edward. Hello.

He saw me? How? I checked - oh. My fingers, my brain. In confirming the 'off' command I'd undone it. Turbulence sent a thunder of embarrassment to steal my tongue, but awkward as I felt, Edward was endearingly almost as much so. Took both my hands, his shaking slightly, and in contact with mine, sweating clammy.

- Hi?

_Hi_

I sounded and was small and shocked. Over the wide veldt and vast steppe of the auditorium with a few who-is-that-with-him? eyes tracking us like documentary cameras, he led me. The room we ended our headlong flight in had mirrors and sofas, fruitbowls and flower bouquets. Lamps dripped from the walls, kama sutra illustrations framed in gilt gave helpful hints. It was decadent, with added carnelian and ruby.

- At last we meet. Oh, I sort of said that.

I was jittery tense and couldn't look at him. Cautious wary, altogether all-aquiver. His reflection was similarly spooked and I didn't consult his face, eye-to-eye.

- Bella, I'm just as nervous as you are. Are you nervous? I'm glad you came to the show tonight. I'm glad you write to me and speak to me. You've probably realized I inhabit my own peculiar headspace. I've always been that way - I have ADHD - but this crazy lifestyle exacerbates it and blocks me from reality. I have managers and crew to ensure I don't buy my own food or pick my own clothes or do anything remotely normal. They think if the day-to-day stuff is taken care of I'll be able to write and create. It's nuts. God, I was so - so _found_ when you discovered me. Thank you, thank you, for your attention. For even noticing. For even bothering to say something. And then - Christ - for what you actually said! Everything I do, think, say, feel - all the music, people say they love it and I'm praised, and I appreciate that it means something to them, I really do. But I'm not doing it for them. It just comes out of me anyway, there's a reservoir down inside somewhere that it all pours from. When you wrote what you wrote, suddenly I felt reached. I felt - pierced. _Quickened_. It means so much.

Whatever he was saying - I was working through it. He was thanking _me_ for paying attention to _him_? But the other part - the part about quickening. Yes. He could see that I knew. I could see that he could see. That's what the quickening was.

We didn't speak for moments because of all the concentration and energy we were expending on not speaking.

- Oh, I'm terrible. I haven't offered you anything. Grapes? Strawberries? They gave me all this fruit.

_I ate earlier_

- Beer? Wine? Soda? Water?

I'll just drink the atmosphere thanks, and then I'll drink you.

_I'm fine. Okay. Thanks. Really_

- That was a lot to lay on you, wasn't it? Too much? I'm sorry.

He looked vulnerable.

What now, wayward poet, crooked arrow, gem-eyed discovery? What now?

We sat, me pulling myself together after a fashion so as to be less disarrayed in speech and demeanor, and both of us in tandem dancing over the stumbling blocks erected by initial shyness in one another's presence. Slowly we relaxed and began to talk. And talk. And talk, as around us first grew later and then lighter. Politely, staff hadn't kicked us out. His band departed, his manager left. I did accept some strawberries after all with clementine.

What now?

About twenty five thousand seconds later we had to leave, simply too tired to stay.

- Fuck - it's morning. I fly out tonight. Can we be together until then?

_Some of it will have to be together sleeping _

His very quiet smile made me blush, though I'd been careful about word order.

- Yeah.

My smile was even quieter as Edward blushed too.


	6. Chapter 6

_the final chapter_

_thank you!_

ALOFTSOAR

- 6 -

At his hotel, he asked what I usually slept in and rang down to the concierge to have things sent up - drawstring pants, a singlet top, underwear. I didn't know you could do that. When they asked for the size he swallowed like he had an egg in his throat, handing me the phone and leaping to the bathroom. I'll take more-or-less-thin-really, please, with 1950's coverage.

We slept together, side by side on crisp sheets, circumspect in the giant bed, and woke together in the afternoon.

- I'm starving. Good morning, I mean good afternoon. God, I'm rude. Hi. Food, at this point, is crucial, before I start munching on the bedding. I don't medicate for my condition, by the way. I'm always hungry.

He was worried that I found him alarming, but I didn't. I'd met people quite like him though I'd never met anyone quite like him.

We ate sitting in the windowsill in our pajamas, laughing eggs and coffee.

Nutritional requirements met, there was time to fill. I thought of asking if we could kiss but hid my face lest it give away ideas of lipsmeet.

- I'd love you to show me around your town. All the places of interest, although I think the most interesting place is going to be wherever you are. You could show me the inside of a cardboard box and I'd be delighted.

_If I showed you two would you be ecstatic?_

- I'd be beside myself. Both of me would be delirious.

He offered me a shower. When I came out he was playing a guitar, facing the window, singing softly - She gives me glimpses, gives me glances, I'm not taking her for granted, I'm not taking anything unless she asks, then it's all in, I won't be coming up for air, up for air, up for air

I leant against the doorway to listen, knowing later I'd fall to bits. He'd be jetting through air currents, a-wing to the next stage and lights and audience and I'd be breaking my fingernails scraping pieces of me up to reassemble them, trying to remember what goes where, craft glue applied to the cracks of devastation. It dries clear, doesn't it? There'd be nothing to show.

- Bella? Oh.

_What?_

- You know, it's strange, but once I'd seen you, every day I'd forget what you look like. I mean, talking to you was the big thing. Then we'd skype and I'd get a huge rush because you're so - _exquisite_. I don't mean to objectify you, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. You'll think I'm a dick. Guys must tell you you're gorgeous all the time. I figured that's why you were reluctant about the camera. You don't want to be judged on your appearance.

Was he really saying this?

_I don't understand_

- Well, you know.

Light slanting in through the pane was glancing off his cheekbone - if there was kindling right there next to him, a fire would start. I was surprised one hadn't already, from all the sparks sparkling in the air around him. Maybe they were lulled by the notes suspended, once sung, reluctant to leave their wellspring.

- So many girls, they're - but you, you're not at all.

With the blanks unfilled I was entirely ill-equipped to guess. What were other girls? What was I not? What I _was_ was bewildered and bashful, uncertain whether to sit opposite him, or pick up my bag and get out of there.

- Sight-seeing, then? he said, to my relief and disappointment.

I found more voice when showing him municipal buildings and historical trees, giving him stories, some of which were genuine.

- What about this fire hydrant? Did anything happen here?

_Yes, this has been locally significant for centuries, since time immemorial. Unfortunately, I can't elaborate because the legend's in another language_

- You don't speak it?

_You don't_

Evening drew close, his phone bleeped at both of us.

- My manager, he muttered, stepping away to take the call, eyes behind shutters. He was a skyscraper, I couldn't just look up through my lashes, I had to tilt my head. Vertigo.

- Damn, he said, returning, and from that great, great height his mouth descended, his lips fluttering down like a leaf in fall to land lightly, briefly on mine. They were gone so quickly I must have imagined it.

- Bella, I need to get back to the hotel. There's a car waiting to take me to the airport.

_Well - oh. Okay then - it was nice meeting you_

A grimace.

- Nice? That's all? It was _wonderful_ meeting you. I wish I didn't have to go. I wish I could stay here. I wish you could come with me. Oh. Maybe you've had enough of me by now. I'm not the best company

_You're great company_

I tried to smile but my mouth couldn't.

- Okay, I'm glad to hear that. You're great company too. The best in fact. We'll have to do this again. Can we?

_Yes, but aren't you crossing the continent?_

- Well, yeah. For a few more weeks. Then I'm having a couple of months off to write songs.

_So - _

- It doesn't matter where I am for writing. Well, it does. I have to be somewhere with the right atmosphere, somewhere inspiring.

I didn't know what to say. I didn't know what he was saying.

- I need to be near a locally significant fire hydrant. That's a new prerequisite, but essential.

Then my mouth could, and did smile.

_I don't know how many locally significant hydrants there are in the country. Or even the whole world. Ours right here in this city might be the only one anywhere_

So did his.

- Actually, I've already done the research, and it is.

Pretty crimson bloomed on my face, an upsurge manifest. He cleared his throat.

- Look, I know you're busy. You have things to do. Your job - and life. I won't get in your way. But maybe we could meet up and go for walks? Visit yoghurt stores?

You'll _be busy. Your work. You have songs to write_

Pretty crimson mirrored mine.

- I've started. These last few weeks have been a frenzy of output. I've got a slew of new songs, so many I could wallpaper a room with them.

Ahead of us his hotel was fast looming. A car waited in the forecourt, purposeful with that airport air.

- Can I give you a ride home? Hey, about me gatecrashing your life. Don't answer now. I'll ask you again in a few weeks, okay? You need time to think about it.

_So do you, don't you_?

- I already did. Hence the asking.

His manager was in the car and greeted me by name, prior to my scrambling into the back seat with Edward, us handholding and shortlytopart. My house arrived even more quickly than the hotel had. Before today I was unaware of the speed of the buildings in my town.

Edward walked me to the door.

- So. Look for me later? I'll be on your desk.

_Yes_

- Can I hug you?

_Yes_

He enveloped me. Through willpower I could levitate enough to kiss his cheek, although it may have been that he leaned down. His sigh tickled my ear.

_Goodbye until hello, _my voice a whisper.

- I like that. Goodbye until hello. I like everything you say. I already have the name for my new cd - Aloftsoar, if I have your permission. It's the feeling you give me.

His voice a murmur.

- Can I kiss you?

_Please_

A real kiss - lovely lovely, wish and shimmer, soonspeak serenade, and he was gone.

Until

- Hey! Hi. Hello!

All smiles, on my desk and his.

_Hello_


End file.
